And We Can Light a Match
by half agony and hope
Summary: "When this is over, do you want to fall in love again?" she asks. He looks at her strangely. "Your question is flawed," he says, and doesn't expand further. Only later does it occur to her that maybe he is already in love.


**AN: I have no idea where this came from. All I know is that it's a oneshot, and it was very possibly my favorite thing to write. Ever. Hope you like it as well!**

 **The title comes from lyrics to "Dust to Dust", a song by The Civil Wars.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

And We Can Light a Match

 _8:42 PM_

She waits and listens to the sound of raindrops falling from the awning behind her, wrapping her arms around her torso in a feeble attempt to warm herself as she stares at the motel door. The wind whistles, blowing the rain towards her and spraying droplets across her back.

She takes a step closer to the door instinctively to escape the chill of the rain. The door opens at the same time.

She finds herself far too close to Jane.

"Lisbon," he says, surprised, his eyes questioning.

He's been crying, she realizes with one look.

She shakes herself.

Of course he's been crying. It's the anniversary of his family's deaths.

The wind howls again, and Jane comes to his senses, pulling her over the threshold of his motel room and slamming the door behind her. The howling dims slightly.

Jane takes one look at her and heads for the bathroom, emerging a second later with two towels, one of which he drapes around her shoulders like a blanket. The other he lifts to her hair. He begins to wring the water out, and Lisbon sighs, finally beginning to warm up.

"What are you doing here?" comes his voice from behind her.

She doesn't turn around, instead determinedly staring at the god-awful paintings above his bed and the even more awful comforters.

"Uh…" she says, feeling stupid. Is she allowed to tell the truth?

To hell with it, she decides.

She turns around quickly. His hands are still tangled up in her hair, and she realizes that she is essentially in his arms.

"I want you to spend the night at my house," Lisbon says. "I don't want you to be alone."

His eyes narrow a fraction of an inch, and she can tell he's trying to read her. He must like what he sees—or decides he can't see anything—because he drops his hands to her shoulders and says softly, "Okay."

* * *

 _9:34 PM_

They pick up a take-and-bake pizza on the way back—because they are each other, so of course they haven't eaten yet. The pizza's been in the oven for fifteen minutes when the lights flicker once, twice, three times and then go out. Thunder booms, and Jane jumps slightly.

"Shit," says Lisbon, running a hand through her hair. It's nearly dry now, falling in loose waves over her shoulders.

Jane's eyes shine in the darkness. "You got a flashlight?" he asks.

"Yeah," she says. "But no batteries."

"Candles?"

She smiles. "That," she says, "I do have."

"And matches?" His smile is obvious even in the dark.

"I have those too."

* * *

 _9:59 PM_

They get a fire going and sit cross-legged in front of it. The pizza is cooked enough to eat but just barely.

They've lit every candle Lisbon owns and placed them haphazardly around, transforming her living room into something eerily beautiful. After she eats the last bite of her slice, Lisbon leans back against the bottom of her couch and looks over at Jane.

He sets his plate down and refuses to meet her eyes. "What now?"

"Well," says Lisbon. "We have at least eight hours 'til sunrise. Maybe more. What do you want to do?"

He shoots a glance at her. "What do you mean?"

She shrugs. "I know you. You're not going to be getting any sleep tonight. You want some company?"

He can't speak, but he grabs her hand. She understands.

The rain patters against the window.

* * *

 _11:47 PM_

"I knew playing Risk with you was a bad idea. You're devious."

She grins at him, and he smiles back at her. She can only make out part of his face at a time, depending on the position of the flame nearest to them, and it is equal parts creepy and intriguing.

They are sitting on the floor across from each other at her coffee table, the game board set out between them, the fire burning behind his back. They've abandoned the traditional rules of the military strategy game and have resorted to making up their own.

She moves her troops into Morocco from Spain. "Ah, Lisbon," he says, whining. "You've already taken Europe. At least leave me Africa."

She grins again and crams as many troops as she can into the country.

* * *

 _12:31 AM_

The board game lays abandoned on the coffee table. Jane and Lisbon are on the floor in front of the fire, facing each other. He tries not to blink. He fails. She wins.

He swears, and she bursts out laughing. She clutches her stomach and rolls sideways onto the floor, still giggling like a schoolgirl.

Then Jane is suddenly leaning over her, and the expression on his face gives her a two second warning that he is about to get his revenge.

He begins to tickle her, and she squeals. She clutches at him, simultaneously needing him to stop but not wanting him to.

* * *

 _1:56 AM_

They run out of logs for the fire soon after midnight, and as it fades to embers the temperature in her apartment begins to drop. She shivers, and Jane pulls her up from the ground into his arms.

"Two things help combat the cold, Lisbon. Body heat and movement."

So he encircles his arms around her and sways them back and forth, moving in time to some haunting, imaginary song.

She takes a breath and places her hand on his chest.

He is warm. He is hers.

At least for tonight.

* * *

 _3:22 AM_

They are wrapped up in the same blanket, as close to the fading embers of the fire as they can get. She leans her head on his shoulder, and her eyelids flutter.

"Ask me something," she murmurs, needing to stay awake.

"Anything?"

"Anything."

So he does.

It turns out there a lot of things Jane does not know about her. It also turns out that there are a lot of things he _wants_ to know about her.

 _Tell me about the first time you were in love._

 _What was your mother like?_

 _What's your favorite memory of your brothers?_

 _Do you want children?_

She answers him honestly.

How could she not?

* * *

 _4:44 AM_

She only has one question for him in return. He is too raw right now for many questions.

"When this is over, do you want to fall in love again?"

He looks at her strangely. "Your question is flawed," he says, and doesn't expand further.

Only later does it occur to her that maybe he is already in love.

* * *

 _6:39 AM_

She sits on the couch, her legs propped up on the coffee table, the pieces of their abandoned game of Risk strewn across the floor. Jane's head is in her lap, and she runs her hands through his hair as he sleeps.

She didn't think it was possible, but she's gotten him to sleep. She prays that his nightmares remain at bay.

" _Lisbon_ ," he breathes softly, and the sound of her name coming from his lips makes her heart ache. She dares to dance her fingertips across his face, lightly touching his forehead, his jaw, his lips.

Her eyes close.

* * *

 _7:00 AM_

Jane blinks open one eye and then the other. He sits up quietly.

The only evidence of last night's storm is the soft drip of water from the roof outside.

Jane pulls a still-sleeping Lisbon to the other end of the couch, settling her against his chest and wrapping his arms around her waist. She stiffens, nearly waking up, but he whispers gently in her ear and she quiets and leans into him again.

He presses a tentative kiss to the corner of her mouth, and the first beams of sunlight stream through the window.


End file.
